Random Writing from long ago

dates/2023/01/25 writing


I prefer drawers, big, small, round or tall.
I prefer to put things down for later
I prefer to put things away
I prefer things that are not seen
Though with that, my things are there, on top a table, on the bed, the chair, the floor. My things and stuff they call for me and when they get used, they can't seem to find their way back. My thoughts similarly perplexed by the idea of staying in the right place, they dance, they mate, they shout and pounce, and with their special unique place, they left behind, a system for the ages left alone in dust.

Striking Round Shape

I stand at your shadow, bereft of meaning and joy. I am small and even ugly at times. You though, with your beautiful neck, your striking round shape and with tune and with power you whistle and dance why couldn't I be as pretty

The kettle to the mirror

My ego

Would you please provide me with a way to see, a way to hear her, a way to be. Would you please give me the want to try, try to find her, try to cry. Because she, my ego is I hard to pry.

ืœื ืจื•ืฆื” ืœืคืชื•ื—

ืœื ืจื•ืฆื” ืœืคืชื•ื—
ืื ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืจื•ืฆื”, ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืคื•ืชื—
ืื ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืจื•ืฆื”, ื”ื™ื™ืชื” ื™ื•ื“ืข
ืื ื”ื™ื™ืชื™ ืจื•ืฆื”, ืืฃ ืื—ื“ ืœื ื”ื™ื” ืขื•ืฆืจ ื‘ืขื•ื“ื™
ืื... ืจื’ืข, ืœืืŸ ืืชื” ื”ื•ืœืš?


ืื ื‘ื ืœืš ืœืฉื‘ืช ืœืงืคื” ืžืชื™ืฉื”ื•.
ืื– ื‘ื•ืื™, ืื‘ืœ ืขื›ืฉื™ื•.
ืื ืชืจืฆื™ ืื•ืœื™ ืžืชื™ืฉื”ื• ืœืฆืืช ืœื˜ื™ื•ืœ ืื– ื™ืืœืœื”, ืื‘ืœ ืขื›ืฉื™ื•.
ืื ื™ื”ื™ื” ืงืฉื” ืœืš ื•ืชืจืฆื™ ืœื“ื‘ืจ ืื– ืžืฆื•ื™ื™ืŸ, ืื‘ืœ ืื ื™ ื”ื•ืœืš


ืืชื” ืœื ืจื•ืฆื” ื’ื?
ืชืืœืฅ ืœื”ื™ื•ืช ืงืฆืช ื™ื•ืชืจ ืกืคืฆื™ืคื™
ื›ืื™ืœื•, ื›ืžื• ืฉืœื™
ืื”, ืื ื™ ืืฉืžื—. ื™ืฉ ื‘ืžื™ื“ื” ืฉืœื™?
ืื– ืœืžื” ืืชื” ืžืฆื™ืข?
ื–ื” ืœื ื ืขื™ื ืœื‘ื“


There once was a tree, ages old and ages thick. People cam from all over the forest to visit the tree, not for its apples for it had none, and not for its timber because it as well was hollow. They came for the mushrooms at its root. In all colors and in all shapes, moving and dancing and brimming with taste. And so when the forest was brought down to make space for my press, we kept the tree in its place. But even as we waited and watered the tree no fruit at its base, not a drop on the ground. We cut down the tree to write this story down.

Change my mind!